


I'm unruly (tie me up and school me)

by SinpaiCasanova (Bladerunnerblue)



Series: Pretty Bucky/Married SteveBucky verse [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Anniversary, Banter, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Chair Bondage, Chair Sex, Clothes Ripping, Explicit Sexual Content, Feminization, Light Bondage, M/M, Real Men Wear Tights, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Short & Sweet, Stiletto Heels, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:20:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26237050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bladerunnerblue/pseuds/SinpaiCasanova
Summary: Steve's fingertips lightly trail across the smooth braided rope that's currently holding his husband captive, and teasingly, he gives the ends of the bindings a firm tug to tighten them, making damn sure that his prize isn't going anywhere Steve doesn't want him to go. Not that Bucky could really move much on his own with the way Steve has him hogtied on the leather armchair in their living room. Each wrist is bound to its corresponding ankle, spreading Bucky's limbs up toward his head in an exposing 'V-like' position that has Bucky's dick drooling messily against the fat of his lower belly.It's humiliating–degrading even, to be put on display like this, dressed in nothing but sheer, black pantyhose and ruby red stilettos like Bucky's some trollop Steve bent over the bathroom sink at the bar. Which, he is, if he really thinks about it. Steve could sweet-talk Bucky into doing pretty much anything these days, filthy bathroom sex included.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Pretty Bucky/Married SteveBucky verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900129
Comments: 15
Kudos: 161





	I'm unruly (tie me up and school me)

"My God," Steve sighs, and his voice is that rough, deep rumble that can easily rival thunder. The heat of Steve's gaze is scalding, nearly burning Bucky down to ash as Steve rakes his hungry eyes over every vulnerable inch of him. Those deep pools of liquid sapphire are now swallowed up by the black of his pupils as Steve takes in the delectable sight before him. Bucky’s so fucking gorgeous when he gets like this, all flushed cheeks and desperate pleas, even though Steve hasn’t even touched him yet. It never takes much to get Bucky worked up into a frenzy though. He’s as easy as they come, so eager to have that sweet little hole stretched around something long and hard, fucking him ‘till he cries those fat tears Steve likes to lick right off his cheeks.

Just the thought has Steve palming at the bulge that's stretching out the front of his slacks, giving his restless dick a harsh squeeze that Bucky absolutely tracks with his wide, owlish eyes. Bucky just can’t help it, already so desperate to get his mouth on Steve that he’s practically drooling on himself. Steve notices, because of course he does, and his answering smirk has Bucky’s skin turning seven shades of red, nearly matching the hue of his high-heeled shoes.

"Look at you, Sweetheart." Steve practically purrs when he catches Bucky trying to hide his blushing face behind the metal of his bicep. "All tied up, just waitin' to be opened up and played with like the pretty little present you are, huh?"

Steve's fingertips lightly trail across the smooth braided rope that's currently holding his husband captive, and teasingly, he gives the ends of the bindings a firm tug to tighten them, making damn sure that his prize isn't going anywhere Steve doesn't want him to go. Not that Bucky could really move much on his own with the way Steve has him hogtied on the leather armchair in their living room. Each wrist is bound to its corresponding ankle, spreading Bucky's limbs up toward his head in an exposing 'V-like' position that has Bucky's dick drooling messily against the fat of his lower belly. 

It's humiliating– _degrading_ even, to be put on display like this, dressed in nothing but sheer, black pantyhose and ruby red stilettos like Bucky's some trollop Steve bent over the bathroom sink at the bar. Which, he is, if he really thinks about it. Steve could sweet-talk Bucky into doing pretty much anything these days, filthy bathroom sex included.

But the funny thing is, this was all Bucky’s idea in the first place. Well, _most_ of it was Bucky’s idea. Steve may have provided the foundation on which this fantasy is built when he’d made a rather lewd comment on how pretty Bucky would look in just his tights and heels, but it was Bucky that suggested the rope–a gift from Thor which he’d claimed was strong enough to contain a bilgesnipe–and the wide-open position he’d recently perfected through yoga. 

_“It’s good for the hips, Steve,”_ Bucky had said, to which Steve replied _“yours or mine?”_ because he’s a dirty old bastard that’s constantly thinking about the many ways he can get his dick wet.

It’s Bucky’s fault, really. He was the one who decided to wear that tight little slip of a thing–some red, strapless dress Natasha helped him pick out for the occasion–to their anniversary dinner earlier that evening, and had the _audacity_ to expect Steve to keep his hands to himself. To tell him _not_ to dig his nails into the back of that dress and tear it apart at the seams, just to fuck Bucky right there in the restaurant’s bathroom.

Bucky threatened to knife him if Steve even looked at his new dress in a vaguely threatening way, and Steve knew by the slightly crazed look in his husband's eyes that he was dead serious about it, so of course, Steve suggested that if Bucky was too attached to his new dress to let Steve rip it off him, he’d settle for just pantyhose, because Steve has a strange proclivity for shredding Bucky’s clothing during sex like he’s a fucking neanderthal.

Bucky puts up with it, thankfully, but he’d be lying if Bucky claimed it didn’t get him rock hard as well.

 _“Steve,”_ Bucky whines, squirming against the bindings that are keeping his thighs spread wide. Steve can tell he wants to clamp them shut, hiding the pearl Steve’s after like a stubborn oyster. “C’mon. Don’t tease.”

“M’not, baby doll.” Steve rumbles. His hands have wandered from the ropes around Bucky’s ankles to the insides of his thighs. He’s not doing much at all, not groping or scratching at the plump flush he finds there. He’s just feeling, letting the smooth texture of the nylon send sparks up his fingertips. “Ain’t I allowed to play how I want? You are my anniversary gift, after all. I might wanna draw this out. And who knows, I might not even fuck you at all."

“Asshole,” Bucky huffs indignantly, trying to use the iconic Winter Soldier glare to his advantage, just as he does when he wants Steve to do something without asking for it. The effect falls a bit flat with how Bucky’s essentially folded in on himself in the chair, his soft hair falling in his eyes. He’s not menacing in any regard, just ravishingly adorable.

Steve raises an eyebrow at the bratty comment though, wordlessly chastising his husband with a glare of his own. An entire conversation passes through nothing but scathing looks and challenging tilts of the head, a back and forth banter in a language all their own. It ends with a harsh slap to Bucky’s inner thigh, right below the cheek of his ass where he’s the most sensitive.

Predictably, Bucky howls, cursing Steve for breathing, his mother for birthing his bastard of a husband, Fury for digging his ass out of the ice. Basically, anyone Bucky could think of that led them to this moment. Steve isn’t impressed with Bucky’s attitude, so he smacks him again, and this time, the snap of skin on nylon-covered flesh fills up the room, along with Bucky’s pained yelp.

“This how you talk to your loving husband?” Steve growls, soothing the burn a little with a few gentle circles of his hand. “Ma would be rollin’ in her grave, hearing you talk like that.”

“Your Ma knew you were a bastard too,” Bucky spits, but there’s hardly any heat in the accusation. He’s just trying to egg Steve on, slip under his skin until Steve finally snaps and fucks him like Bucky’s been wanting him to. “She tried to warn me ‘bout you, said you were nothin’ but trouble. But I thought, _‘Nah, not my Stevie’. He’ll be good t’me.’_ Now look at’cha. _‘Lovin’ husband’_ my ass.” 

“Awe, Buck,” Steve coos, dragging his fingers down to the thick patch of fabric that’s standing in between Steve and Bucky’s twitching hole. Bucky’s muscles go taut in an instant, locking up with eager anticipation. Like Steve said, he’s as easy as they come. “What’s the matter, baby? You feeling cranky cause you didn’t get your afternoon delight?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but that’s all the confirmation Steve needs from him.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart. I’ll give you what you need.” Steve says, and his fingernails are digging into the nylon, punching little holes in the fabric without much effort at all. Steve pulls, and Bucky goes rigid as the nylon tears like cotton candy. “Even though I don’t think you deserve it, what with you evoking Ma’s name like that n’all.”

“Stevie, 'm sorry. I didn’t mean it, I swear!” Bucky whimpers as the hole in the bottom of his tights gets wider with a few extra tugs from Steve, exposing his asshole, but infuriatingly, his dick and balls stay just as covered as they were before. Steve doesn’t plan on touching them this time, and judging by the pitiful pout on Bucky’s lips, he knows he’s earned that punishment for running his mouth. The other factor of that punishment is that Bucky stays exposed while Steve remains clothed in the white dress shirt and grey slacks he wore to dinner. Bucky can’t touch his husband, can’t see his body. He only gets to have whatever Steve gives him.

It’s a truly genius idea on Bucky’s part. Steve will have to find a proper way to thank him.

 _Maybe this would suffice?_ Steve wonders as he drops to his knees, those big hands clamping down on the meat of Bucky’s thighs to keep him still.

“Yeah,” Steve rasps, dragging the scruff of his beard across the sensitive skin of Bucky’s ass. The freshly waxed flesh blooms pink under the attention, and Bucky’s balls draw up tight, like he’s close to climax already. Steve wouldn’t put it past him. Bucky’s always been on a hair-trigger like that. “Yeah, we’ll see ‘bout that, won’t we, sugar?”

Bucky only has enough time to squeak out a bewildered “Wha?–” before Steve has his tongue buried inside him, fucking in and out in a maddeningly fast rhythm. Bucky tries to arch off the chair, but Steve has his legs in a vice grip, keeping him right where he wants him. 

Steve laps and sucks, runs his tongue around Bucky’s rim in dizzying patterns. Steve eats ass like he’s a starving man at a buffet, all vigor and unrestrained need that has Bucky keening in an instant. Drool is dripping down his bearded chin as Steve seals his mouth around Bucky’s hole and slurps, and at this point, Bucky is close to sobbing. Hell, Steve’s own dick is throbbing uncomfortably against the zipper of his dress pants, begging to be freed, screaming for the release that’s been building up in his veins since before they left the house for dinner.

In the end, and like most things concerning him do, Steve’s impatience eventually wins. He tears his mouth away, licking at his lips while his hand dips underneath the chair Bucky’s perched on to find the lube that rolled underneath it the previous night.

 _“No–no no no no!”_ Bucky weeps–actually _weeps!_ –as if Steve’s a cruel bastard for robbing him of that fantastic rim job when he was so close to coming he could almost taste it. Steve has to roll his eyes at the sheer level of dramatics. “C’mon, Steve! _Please!”_

“Oh, hush,” Steve chides as he moves to his feet, pressing his left knee to the edge of the chair while his right leg remains straight. His lubed up dick is in his hand now, pulled through the small opening in his pants, and Bucky’s jaw slams shut with an audible _‘click’_ once he sees it, knowing he’s about to get something infinitely better. “Just be a good boy and take it, yeah? Just–be quiet, baby. That's it. Just– _shhh..”_

Surprisingly, Bucky obeys, besides the pained little _“oh, fuck,”_ that slips out once Steve pushes the head of his fat cock past Bucky’s loosened rim, lighting him up from the inside out. Steve doesn’t stop until he bottoms out, and he doesn’t wait for Bucky to adjust before he draws his hips back; snapping forward into the slick heat of Bucky’s ass a second later. He knows Bucky can take it, knows he prefers the lingering burn that comes with minimal prep.

Bucky eyes are rolling back now, and his mouth is hanging open as soundless groans pour free from his throat. Steve keeps the pace that same brutal, punishing speed, slamming his hips up against the soft flesh of Bucky’s ass as he fucks him good and hard. 

Steve grabs a handful of Bucky’s hair and yanks his head back as far as he can, swooping down to lick inside of his warm, wet mouth as his hips angle upward, striking Bucky’s prostate with every harsh thrust.

It’s almost a surprise when Bucky comes, choking out a scream as he wets the front of his ruined pantyhose with thick spurts of come. The walls of his ass tighten rhythmically as the aftershocks tear through his quivering body; the tired muscles in Bucky’s thighs jumping under Steve’s hand when the pace only grows faster, and rougher.

Steve bites down on Bucky’s bottom lip when his own orgasm is ripped from his very core, and he grunts viciously, soothing the hurt with a swipe of his tongue as his cock fills Bucky up; dousing his walls in hot spunk. But instead of pulling out as Bucky obviously expected he would, Steve plants his right foot a bit more firmly against the floor and snaps his hips forward, again, catching Bucky off guard.

“What?” Steve pants, grinning wickedly as the realization of what Steve’s about to say washes over Bucky like an icy wave. _Oh. Shit._ “You thought I was done with you, baby?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, but the deer-in-headlights look in his eyes gives the answer away. Steve’s grin only widens.

“Oh, no, honey,” Steve purrs, tearing a gasp from Bucky’s mouth as his hips start a slow, circular grind. “We’re just getting started.”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think ❤


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